


That's a good question, what is the title?

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, I really cant tag, M/M, Them all being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Grantaire has depression. Bahorel and Feuilly are there to help him
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 6





	That's a good question, what is the title?

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t be an asshole, I didn’t wait out here in the waiting room for you to not tell me.”

“You’re making out like I’m going to have a baby or something.”

“R.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I have depression.”

Bahorel wasn’t one for hugs. Offering to spar with him was his love language but, at the moment, Grantaire looked like he needed a very big and very long hug. He opens his arms and the artist falls right into them, burying his head into the boxer’s shoulder.

It wasn’t until they were in Feuilly’s car that Grantaire spoke up again.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset about it. All the symptoms were there.” R says, leaning forward to take the lighter off of Feuilly. 

“It’s still a pretty big diagnosis.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s cancer or something. It’s just my brain not working.” He rolls down the window, taking a drag from the cigarette and holding it for a few seconds, before breathing out. 

“Grantaire, I’m going to kick your ass the next time you’re at the gym if you keep downplaying this.”

R smiles for a second at that. “Jokes on you, I like that.” 

“Yeah, I’ll kick your ass and leave you wanting.”

“You can’t do that.”

“We can do what we want.” Feuilly looks at Grantaire through the rear-view mirror. He winks, and Grantaire flops back down on the seats. 

It wasn’t until a week later that things got bad. Grantaire could put it off for a little while- he made himself busy: getting out of bed at 10am, making a pot of coffee with a splash of whiskey in it, painting until 12, going out for lunch, finishing his essay that was due on Sunday, meeting Bahorel at the gym and sparring with him. The Doctor said a routine would help, so here he was, having a routine for the first time in his life. Bahorel and Feuilly were there for the most part, making sure he was still okay. They were doing this before he’d actually been diagnosed, but somehow, it felt more intimate now, and Grantaire was so grateful for them. 

“Are you coming to the meeting?” Feuilly had walked into his studio, holding his car keys in one hand and keeping the door open with another. 

He really should, but his head was getting loud again, and could he really deal with Enjolras tonight? Eventually, he nods and stands up. 

“Only if you buy me something stronger than a beer.” Feuilly had smiled.

“You’ll be on rum and coke for the rest of the night.” 

“Sounds perfect.” He says, pulling his jacket on, and taking Feuilly’s hand, “Is Bahorel meeting us there?” R asks, rubbing his hand with forehead. 

“Yep, probably covered in bruises and scrapes.” 

R laughs softly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Feuilly squeezes his hand, and pulls him to the car. 

They get to the meeting and Feuilly is immediately pulled away by Enjolras. He hands R a note, and asks for a ginger beer. R nods, and gets the drinks, sitting in his usual seat at the back of the room. He twirls the ice cubes around, not focusing on anything else. 

“Where’s the ginge?” He looks up to see Bahorel and tilts his glass to the front. He really didn’t feel like talking now. He takes a sip of his drink and leans against Bahorel slightly. He was fine for the time being, but he just wanted to be at home and left alone.

“Grantaire? Have you not got anything to say?” Enjolras’ voice rose above the rest of the chatter. R’s eyes flash up to the front, but he really couldn’t be bothered today, or any other day for that matter.

“No, so be grateful that I don’t.” He says, before standing up and finishing his drink off. He looks at Feuilly. “Can I have the keys please?”

Feuilly stands up as well, “You’re in no state to drive. You’ve had three rum and coke’s, I’ll take you.” He says, flashing a smile at Enjolras, just to let him know that everything was okay. 

“What? And leave me here?” Bahorel pouts, standing up as well, “I’ll come with you.” He says, snatching the keys off of Feuilly. 

“Do you want us to crash? That’s like your third beer. Give me the keys.”

Grantaire was only half-paying attention to their argument. 

It came as no surprise that R didn’t want to get out of bed the next day. He hadn’t slept the past night, despite being very cosy between Bahorel and Feuilly. His brain just wouldn’t stop, and he could hear Bahorel’s snoring and clock chiming on the wall and Feuilly breathing and then Bahorel mumbling. Feuilly’s alarm went off at 5 in the morning, and Grantaire watched as he climbed out of the bed. 

“R?” He mumbled, still half asleep. 

Grantaire looked up at him, “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No.” There was no point lying, especially when he was so bad at it. Feuilly nods and leans over to kiss the side of his mouth. R smiles and curls back into Bahorel after. 

Eventually, Bahorel wakes up just after midday, “Morning, shithead.” 

“Afternoon.” R corrects, not lifting his head from the pillow. He was curled away from Bahorel, but Bahorel could hear that something was wrong. 

“Have you drunk anything since last night?” 

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m the Prime Minister.” He says and kisses Grantaire’s cheek, before getting off of the bed. Grantaire recoils from him slightly. Why were they kissing him? He was currently very sweaty and he felt disgusting. 

Bahorel comes back, holding a bottle of water out to him. “Don’t tell Enjolras we’re using single plastic.” 

R takes it and puts it on the side, curling back into the bed. He closes his eyes as Bahorel opens the curtains and gets dressed. 

“So, have you heard about Joly’s new proposition?”

R shook his head, and let Bahorel talk to him in his low, gruff voice. His hand never left Grantaire’s shoulder or side. He felt less alone for a couple of hours, and somehow, that helped. He sits up after a couple of hours, and takes the water bottle, sipping it.

When Feuilly came home, R had moved in front of Bahorel, and was currently taking a nap on his chest. His heartbeat was soothing and acted as a way for his brain to focus on one thing instead of about 5 at once.

They waited outside when Grantaire went to his first therapy session. 

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“He’ll be fine, foxface. Come and sit down, you’re making me nervous watching you pace up and down.”

“I know, but I love him Rel, I just want him to be okay.”

“I do too, but we’re doing all we can.” Bahorel moves so Feuilly can lean on him, “Your hair is tinkling me, ginge.”

“Better than my hair being so long that I can reach it from here asshole.” Feuilly grabs a lock of Bahorel’s hair, tugging it. 

“Do you want a fight?” Bahorel asks, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. 

“No because I’ll win and it’ll bruise your ego.”

“Guys, you’re like children.” Grantaire walks to where they were, raising an eyebrow. 

“Foxface started it.”

“You literally asked me if I wanted to fight!”

“You’re idiots, both of you. And I would take you both down in one blow.”

“Oh, sure you will. You and your scrawny ass can barely beat me on a good day.”

“Shall we test that theory out?” Grantaire asks, walking outside with them. 

“Yeah, but at home. In bed.” Feuilly says, grabbing both Grantaire and Bahorel by the wrist, pulling them towards the car. 

“You’re both idiots, and I love you both.” Grantaire says, lying in bed with a cigarette in his hand and sweating everywhere. 

“We love you too.” Feuilly says, grinning. 

“Thank you, as well, for everything you’ve done. I don’t think I’d be here if it wasn’t for both of you.”

“Don’t say that, R. We just care about you a lot.” 

“I know you do.” And it was true, even when Grantaire was in a cycle of deep depression, he knew Bahorel and Feuilly were there to help him and support him until he was okay again.


End file.
